


Fact or Fiction

by InnerSpectrum



Series: Sherlock December Ficlets 2017 [28]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Brotherhood, Christmas Fluff, Family Fluff, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 08:01:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13243974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum
Summary: The Holmes parents are doing their best to keep their sons in the holiday spirit. The Holmes Brothers are doing their best to escape it as soon as possible.





	Fact or Fiction

**Author's Note:**

> This is a part of the [Sherlock December Ficlets ](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fcollections%2FSherlock_December_Ficlets_2017&t=NjRmODc4ZjE3OGJjNjUzYzg2NWVhY2QzMTRjNDJmOTUwMzdkOTRhMCxabzFVQjBkMA%3D%3D&b=t%3AfMPAp7-tN-90HMCNGHRDOw&p=http%3A%2F%2Fmissdaviswrites.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167644180668%2Fsherlock-december-ficlets&m=0) challenge. Each will be its own story, though knowing me a couple may follow an arc of sorts.  
> The prompt used for this entry: Post-Holiday Blues / “Thank God That’s Over”

It was the day after Boxing Day, the holidays were almost over in Mycroft and Sherlock’s mind.

_Almost._

They both knew they could not leave their parents’ domicile before one o’clock. The socially acceptable time in which they can finally, escape and head back to London, without Mummy’s feelings being hurt. Bored out of their respective minds, the brothers were on their respective laptops or phones working until ordered off by both parents. Now all four were in front of the living room fireplace playing a rousing game of Fact or Fiction Scrabble.

“Mummy, really?” Mycroft raised a dark eyebrow, “Anthrodystopology?”

“Anthrodystopology - is the select study of various aspects of dystopian societies as it pertains to literature and or cinema.” Mrs. Holmes answered the challenge.  “It was recently coined by a film critic for the comparison of cinematic portrayals of societies such as Hungers Games versus The Matrix versus the early Mad Max films.”

“As though you have deigned to view any of those examples.” Sherlock snorted.

“I never said I would view such, Sherlock. Simply that Anthrodystopology is the comparative study of the genre.” Violet flashed her eyes at him for the ridiculousness of the statement.

“Dad? An assist here?” The elder son turned to his father.

“Oh no, son, you’re on your own with this one.” The patriarch of the family shook his head, turning away from Mycroft to scribble on a piece of paper he then held hidden in his hand.

“Either our mother wins or you do, Brother Mine.” Sherlock leaned forward on the table, his own scribble hidden in hand, when Mycroft looked to him. “Daddy and I will reveal our answer only after you have given yours for the game.”

In _Fact or Fiction Scrabble_ a player is allowed to make up a word and play it. Another player can challenge the word by asking “Fact or Fiction?” and the player creating the word must define it. The other players then make a vote of fact or fiction as to its veracity. If the majority call _Fact_ it stays without further challenge. If the majority call _Fiction,_ and the challenged player can prove its existence, it’s double points.

In the case of the last play of the game such as now, as the challenger, if Mycroft calls _Fact_ , indicating that he believed the ridiculous portmanteau existed, he would automatically lose, regardless if the word exists or not. If he calls, _Fiction_ and his mother can prove, at the table, that the word does in fact exist, his mother would win regardless of his disbelief. However, if it is unproven, and his mother cannot make another word, Mycroft wins.

Granted he would only win by only a few points, but Mycroft _hated_ to lose - even to his own mother and she knew it.

Violet Simone Alexandria Vernet-Holmes stared at her eldest stone-faced. She was a horrible liar; however, the woman was also an excellent poker player and this was Mummy’s poker face at its finest. It was where Mycroft Alexander David Holmes learned to create the neutral expression he employed now as he quickly broke down the structure of the word, its possible etymology and made a decision.

“Fact.” He tapped the word on the board ending the game.

“Lo! It is still Christmas time, Mycroft let me win! Of course it’s fiction, silly boy!” Violet laughed heartily as both her husband and her youngest held up their slips where each had written _Fiction_ in their disbelief of the word. 

“Are you ill son? Dying?” Siger David William Holmes teased.

“Quite so.” Mycroft rolled his eyes, accepting the good-natured ribbing from his father.

Simultaneously:

  * Sherlock stood and began putting the game away,
  * Siger glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece,
  * Mycroft stood as he looked at his pocket watch and
  * Violet looked at her wrist watch.



Violet held up a hand and with her fingers silently counted backwards. Without looking up, when she reached zero she points at her eldest child whose mobile began to sound.  Sherlock snickered as Mycroft answered; while Violet turned to her husband with her hand out. Sherlock full out laughed as his father mumbled under his breath as he took some notes out of his wallet and passed it to his grinning wife.

“Oh Dad, you should have known better.” Sherlock sniggered.

“And that’ll be the car.” Mother and elder son say in unison after Mycroft rings out. Mycroft narrows his eyes at his still grinning mother. Siger laughs collecting the mugs from the table.

Fifteen minutes later Mycroft caught the overnight bag tossed by Sherlock, who carried his own bag as he just short of ran down the stairs. Mycroft passing Sherlock’s laptop bag to him just as he reaches the bottom step, slinging the strap of his own across his body.

“One would almost think you two are anxious to get away from us.” Siger snickers at the precision of their exit wondering if the two practiced at night while he and his wife slept.  

“Never!” assured Sherlock, who at least managed not to roll his eyes as the men exchanged claps on the back.

“Nonsense! Our sons adore every minute spent with us and they know it.” Violet scoffs at the notion, opening the door just as a black sedan pulls up.

“Well, _adore_ might be a bit of a stretch, Mummy.” Mycroft gave his mother a peck on the cheek as he heads out.

“London’s Transport and criminal classes and will not allow us these idyllic moments with you to last, Mummy. Dad.” Sherlock delivered his own kiss behind his brother’s. “Later.”

“I’ll call you for your birthday dear!” Violet calls out as they reach the sedan.

“Only if you must, Mummy.” Sherlock responds, but not loud enough for her to hear as he ducks into the car, closing the door.

As the car pulls off and the family house is behind him the two brothers smirk at each other and speak at the same.

“Thank God that’s over”

**Author's Note:**

> No, _Fact or Fiction Scrabble_ does not exist – but it kinda should, shouldn’t it?


End file.
